Is It True?
by allthestripes
Summary: Craig isn't gay, dammit! No matter what anyone says, not even his boyfriend! Wait...


Craig Tucker was getting annoyed. Seriously annoyed.

For a few weeks now, thanks to the Asian girls, people were beginning to think he was gay. Now, that wasn't really the problem, people thinking he was gay. He didn't give a single fuck what they all thought. No, the problem was that no one was bothering to ask if it was true or not! Instead, he was just being given weird looks! Once again, it was seriously pissing him off!

A knock on his door got his attention, and he sat up on his bed as his mother stuck her head into the ten year old's room. "Craig, it's time for dinner," she informed him. He nodded, and got up, following her downstairs to the table.

He sat at one end, his dad at the other, and his mother and sister on either side. His dad had grilled hotdogs and baked some fries. Mmm, homemade fries were the fucking tits.

His mom served out the food to them all, and they all began eating. Craig doused his hotdog in ketchup and took a bit, accidentally making a mess of the red goop. He looked up to ask for a napkin and saw all three of his family members staring at him, though he noticed his sister looked on the verge of tears from trying to hold in her laughter.

It took about one nano-second to realize what the problem was, and with an annoyed growl, he got up, snatched his plate, and returned to his room to eat. No way was he dealing with this right now, dammit. It was time for food and fuck anyone and everyone who tried to make that a bad time for him. Hotdogs just so happened to be one of his favorite foods, and his family had never reacted like that when he ate them before. Assholes. Fuckers. Goddammit!

With an annoyed sigh he set his half eaten food on his desk, then picked up his phone and texted his best friend, Clyde Donovan.

 _Family is pissing me off. Go get food somewhere with me._

It wasn't a request, and he was answered back almost immediately with an, _On my way_.

Putting on his coat, Craig grabbed some money from his secret hiding spot (under Stripe's cage), and stomped downstairs. He flipped off his parents and sister, then stormed out, adjusting his blue chullo on his head.

He waited outside for the vaguely chubby child to arrive. When he came puffing up a few minutes later, Craig gave him no time to catch his breath, walking off in the direction of main street. Now, what to get...

Clyde caught up to him, catching his breath. "Damn, Craig what got sand in your vagina?" he asked, slowing a bit once beside him.

"Nothing," Craig muttered. "Actually, it's this shit with the Asian girls. Why do they all think I'm gay?"

"Maybe it's from how you walk?" Clyde suggested, which was the wrong thing to say as Craig froze, then spun around to face him.

"What's wrong with how I walk?" he demanded. "What about my walks could possibly suggest I like boys?!"

"Oh, it's nothing, nothing!" Clyde squealed, backtracking quickly. They walked on for a moment, then the brown haired boy ventured another question. "So... _do_ you like to kiss guys?"

Craig glared at him and snapped, "You're so fucking funny, Clyde." He punched his arm hard, making the other whine in pain. They walked a past a few more houses before Clyde dared to speak again.

"Well, maybe if you weren't such a pussy about the snow-"

"Hey, it's fucking cold and wet, and besides I don't mind it _that_ much. I live in South Park for fuck's sake-"

"And if your favorite colored wasn't the rainbow..."

Craig blushed lightly at this, having no answer for it. They passed in front of a coffee shop then, and the door opened with a soft jingle.

"Craig!" Said boy looked up and saw a familiar head of wild blonde hair and smiled.

"Tweek."

The new boy smiled back and approached the pair, hugging Craig in greeting. "Craig, we have to talk about this denial you're stuck in..."

"TWEEK! HOW COULD YOU!" Craig shrieked, sounding scandalized.

Of course this shocked the boy, making him leap back and shriek as well. Craig felt back almost instantly and gently pulled him into a hug. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just... I feel like I'm losing all the people I thought I could trust..."

Tweek stared at him for a good minute before saying, "Craig, I'm literally your boyfriend. You're dating a boy. You're gay. Like, really gay."

Craig flushed darkly, murmuring under his breath, "Motherfucker..."

He looked around at all the people passing them, looking at the pair's joined hands. He had no intention of letting go, but turned to the woman who was walking by them the closest.

"You probably think I'm gay," he commented. She was surprised at being directly addressed, but nodded slightly.

"Damn. Well, this whole trip was counterproductive..." He huffed in annoyance, then spun on his heel, dragging his boyfriend behind him. "I'm going home, Clyde, thanks for the walk."

His friend waved goodbye even though neither could see him.

Once back at his house, Craig kicked open the front door, and entered, Tweek behind him, twitching and grunting nervously.

"C-Craig, what are you-" he began, but was cut off as the slightly taller of the two yelled at his family.

"You don't understand, Easy Bake Oven was just a damn phase! It was just a phase!"

His sister rolled her eyes. "Sure, a five year long phase that only ended because the light bulb broke and you didn't know how to fix it. It definitely didn't make you cry either."

Craig fumed, then turned and kissed Tweek, not only shocking the poor blonde into complete stillness, but also shocking his still eating family into silence.

After what he deemed to be a decent amount of time, he pulled back from a dazed Tweek and flipped his family off. "What do you know anyway!" He pulled Tweek closer to himself. "You all already think I'm queer, but I'm telling you, I'm as straight as a ramp!"

Tweek tugged at his sleeve lightly and gained his attention. "Act-ngh-actually, there was bible camp..."

Craig paused, then nodded and turned back to the three at the table. "If you don't count bible camp."


End file.
